


God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Roxlin, Blindfolds, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy has spent weeks trying to plan the perfect Christmas for Harry. And even though he still doesn't know what to get for Harry, it's all coming together wonderfully. He's thought of everything -- except for the fact that Harry has been making plans of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to [fideliant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fideliant/pseuds/fideliant) for helping me with some of the London details in this story. Many of the locations named here are not open on Christmas Eve, but for the sake of fiction, let's assume that they are.
> 
> [There is now art for this story!](http://maxkennedy24.tumblr.com/post/132863578632) Please check out the absolutely beautiful art by maxkennedy24 and give the artist all the love they deserve.
> 
> This fic has been translated into Chinese! You can [read it here](http://www.mtslash.org/thread-219066-1-1.html) thanks to orange_s.

It's November 20th when Eggsy ends up on Roxy's doorstep, pounding on the door and pleading to be let in. He knows she's there –- she just got back this afternoon from a mission in Stockholm. She went there with nothing but a tube of normal red lipstick and the Kingsman pen in her tiny black handbag, and she got the job done in record time. Turns out Roxy is an expert at slipping poison into people's coffee, tea, or Eggs Benedict.

She's wearing striped pajamas, and her hair is a mess when she opens the door; he's obviously woken her up even though it's only 8:30. "This better be good," she warns.

"Can I come in?" Eggsy asks, and hopes he doesn't sound as pitiful as he feels.

Roxy looks over his shoulder to the street behind him, checking to see if he's alone, if anyone is paying them any attention. Satisfied, she stands back, allowing him entry. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"I need your help," Eggsy says. He's never felt weird about admitting that to Roxy. She doesn't judge, for one thing. For another, she's come to him seeking advice just as often, so it's not like he's in debt to her or anything.

"About what?" she asks as she leads him into her kitchen. She fills a teakettle and sets it on the stove. There's a dirty glass and plate in the sink, but no silverware. It's chilly in here, as though she hasn't been home long enough for the central heating to really warm up the place.

Eggsy collapses into a chair at the kitchen table. "Do you know what day it is?" he asks heavily.

Roxy frowns as she considers this. He can tell she's trying to work it out, the significance of the day and date. Finally she shakes her head. "I have no idea," she says.

"It's November 20th," Eggsy says glumly.

"Which means?" Roxy prompts.

"Which means there's only one month until Christmas," Eggsy says.

Roxy stares at him.

"It's our first Christmas," Eggsy explains. "And I have absolutely no idea what to get Harry."

Roxy gives him such a look that Eggsy instantly checks to make sure she doesn't have any poison pens lying around. The way she's glaring at him, he wouldn't put it past her to slip something into his tea.

"You have _got_ to be joking," she says flatly.

"I swear I'm not," Eggsy says.

Roxy sighs heavily. "Why me," she mutters.

Eggsy doesn't bother answering that.

The way he figures it, it's not really his fault. He had just been walking along, minding his own business, when he happened to catch a glimpse of the interior of a Boots store. Where two employees were putting up a Christmas display. He had smirked a little at first, feeling smug about his superior refusal to give in to the holiday this early –- _it's only November 20th for fuck's sake!_

But on the heels of that had come another, completely terrifying thought: _It's already November 20th! What the fuck am I going to get Harry for Christmas?_

He'll think of something, he tells himself. Of course he will.

The kettle whistles, and Roxy pours their tea. Eggsy knocks half his cup back like it's alcohol, not even noticing the scalding temperature.

"Poor Eggsy," Roxy murmurs, her lips curved into a smile. "You've really got it bad, haven't you?"

This is absolutely true, but he bristles a little at her tone anyway. It's not like Roxy to gloat. "Maybe I do," he stammers, "but, but, well, but do you know what you're getting Merlin?"

"Of course not," Roxy says. She sets her cup down. "It isn't even December yet."

"Yeah, well," Eggsy says with all the superior wisdom of his two-hour head start on her, "just you remember this later when you can't think of anything and panic."

Roxy looks amused. "If I can't think of anything," she says, "I'll just ask him what he wants."

Aghast, Eggsy stares at her. "You can't just ask!"

"Why not?" Roxy demands. "What's wrong with asking?"

"You can't," Eggsy says again. He can't put into words his immediate and deep disapproval. "It's, it's—"

"Cheating?" Roxy suggests with a smirk

"Exactly that," Eggsy says.

"No, Eggsy," Roxy says patiently, "it's what two adults do when they can't think of a gift on their own."

Eggsy doesn't care what she says. He knows he'll never ask Harry what he wants. He has to come up with his gift idea on his own. Nothing else will do.

Roxy finishes her tea and sets her hand on his where it rests on the table top. When she speaks, she is very serious, her eyes fixed on his. "Eggsy, Harry won't care what you get him. All that matters is that it comes from you." She gives him a soft smile.

He smiles back, but it's hard. He knows she's right. But at the same time she's wrong. Dead wrong. It _does_ matter. It matters a whole fucking lot.

He's never had this before, this thing he has with Harry. He's never been so happy or so in love. He never even knew he could feel this way. Most days he thinks they come pretty damn close to getting everything just right. But Christmas is a magical time of year, after all (or so all the songs and movies say), and even though Eggsy himself hasn't ever really felt that way, he _wants_ to. Especially this year, now that he has Harry.

From start to finish, he wants the whole thing to be _perfect._

Trying to explain all this to Roxy would take all night, though, and he's already kept her up too long. She's tired and he's being an arse by staying here. So he thanks her for the tea –- he _can_ be a gentleman sometimes –- kisses her on the cheek, and says he'll see her on Monday.

Roxy walks him to the door. "Good night, Eggsy."

"You won't say nothin'?" He knows she won't; when it comes to keeping her mouth shut, Roxy is even better than he is. But he still has the anxious need to ask, to make sure.

"Of course not," she says, and Eggsy breathes out in relief.

Outside it's cold and dark, it's Friday, November 20th, and he still has no clue what to get Harry for Christmas.

****

Now that the idea of the holiday has occurred to him, Eggsy can't shake it from his head. He's never been that big on the whole Christmas thing, but this year everything is different. He's not living in a house where the ghost of Lee Unwin hangs over every Christmas, tainting the joy of the season. And while Dean is big on _getting_ presents, he was never so great with the giving –- unless it was a knock upside the head with a closed fist.

The days slip quietly away. Merlin and his gang take over comm duties for the American Statesmen on November 26th while the Yanks all celebrate their Thanksgiving holiday. Eggsy himself spends the day in Hungary, on the trail of a guy who can supposedly lead him to a group planning to set a bomb in a busy railway station.

It turns out to be a bust; his target does nothing more exciting all day than go out to buy a sandwich for dinner before returning to his dingy flat to eat it. As the sun goes down, Eggsy sulks on a street corner, pretending to carry on a lively conversation on his mobile while keeping an eye on the building.

"I'm fucking bored," he says. "Wish you was here." The good thing about using a phone call for cover is that he can talk freely, without having to hide the movement of his lips.

"I do, too," says Harry. He's somewhere across the city, setting up the safe house where they plan to stay for the duration of their mission.

"Talk to me," Eggsy says. "Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm standing in the living room of this appalling house," Harry says, an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. "Wishing I had a feather duster."

Eggsy chuckles. He can picture it, Harry in an apron, duster in hand. "Keep goin'," he says. "I got a cover to maintain, you know."

The light remains steady in the flat he's watching. His target is still inside. He glances at his wrist, looks annoyed, then starts to pace up and down the street corner. Like he's angry at having to wait for someone to meet him. He can't keep the charade up for too long, but for now, it works.

"The inventory sheet for the armoury here checks out," Harry says. "All items and weapons present and accounted for. The guns need to be oiled. You can do that later."

Eggsy doesn't have to pretend to look annoyed this time. Surveillance missions are boring as fuck, and have the added disadvantage of not getting to spend any time with his partner, since they have to trade shifts monitoring their target. When he's back at the house getting some rest, Harry will be out here watching this building and waiting for their guy to show his face.

"Food supply is adequate but rather lacking in imagination," Harry continues. "Plenty of bottled water, though."

Around him, lights are going on inside the other flats, windows lighting up as people give in to the darkening hour. Eggsy glances again at his watch, then starts to walk down the street.

"Going dark now," Harry says. "Two hours of sleep, then I'll meet you." He doesn't say where, the professional that he is. He doesn't need to. Their rendezvous was pre-arranged long before they left London.

Eggsy nods, then stops dead in his tracks as a flat across the street lights up for the evening. Not just an interior light, but a whole string of them looped across the window, coloured bulbs of red and green and blue. Fucking Christmas lights is what they are, and just that fast, Eggsy finds himself thinking about the damn holiday again.

He groans a little. "Fucking hell," he mutters.

Even on a mission he can't get away from the slowly approaching doom of Christmas.

****

Three days later they're back home, their mission a success (the guy finally snuck out of his flat and went to meet the bad guys; Harry took care of it all while Eggsy slept in the safe house). They make their debrief to Arthur, grab some takeaway for dinner, and end up shagging on the floor of the bedroom, not even able to make it to the bed.

The next day is December 1st. Despite the slightly ominous overtones of having reached the same month as Christmas, Eggsy whistles a little as he combs his hair into submission, and there is a definite jaunt to his step as he and Harry walk to the shop on Savile Row.

By the end of the day, though, he's in a fair bit of panic. While he was gone, Christmas has arrived in London. There are displays in every shop window. Commercials on television. Lighted trees on conspicuous street corners. Everywhere he looks, he's reminded that the big day is coming –- and he still has no plans, and no fucking idea whatsoever of what to get for Harry.

He calls his mum, because he promised he would when he got back, and he's eager to see her and Daisy again. The house he got for her isn't too far from where he and Harry live, within an easy walking distance. He brings along the snow globe he bought for Daisy in Budapest, and her delighted laughter when she sees it is all the thanks he needs.

"I talked to Lisa today," his mum says. "She's coming down for Christmas."

Eggsy nods, sitting on the floor with Daisy. She's building some complicated structure out of waffle blocks, and he adds to it as she directs him. "Good," he says. "That's good." He likes his Aunt Lisa, although he wishes she had been around more often as he was growing up. Maybe she could have helped steer his mum away from Dean.

"You'll be there too?" Michelle asks.

"Of course I will," Eggsy says, a bit put out that she would even have to ask.

She smiles, then hesitates. "I suppose you'll be…?" She trails off.

"Yeah," Eggsy says firmly. "I'm bringing Harry."

Her lips thin, but she doesn't say anything. She isn't fond of Harry for any number of reasons, starting with the fact that he was the one to tell her of Lee's death and ending with the very large age difference between him and Eggsy.

That stuff can't be helped, but Eggsy's trying to work on the other things. Like undoing the fallout from their first official meeting, which was nothing short of a disaster.

They had met for dinner, Daisy having been left with a friend for the night so Michelle would be free to focus on her son and his new boyfriend, who just so happened to be twice his age. Harry, just out of hospital, the scar from Valentine's bullet still vividly red on his forehead, had been stiffly formal and polite all night, the result of a rather violent headache he hadn't even mentioned until they got home. By then, though, the damage had been done. Already predisposed to dislike him, Michelle had interpreted his behaviour as mockery of her rather rough manners and way of speaking, and decided that he was a complete and irredeemable arsehole.

Nothing much has changed her mind since then.

Still Eggsy keeps trying. "Come on," he says now, attempting to coax her into smiling. "It'll be fun, all of us together." Even though he's pretty sure it's going to be the exact opposite. Maybe the presence of his aunt will help. Or she might make things worse. There's just no telling with her.

Michelle won't bend, though, so Eggsy changes the subject, hoping that time will soften her mood. He refuses to let Harry spend Christmas Day alone while he's over here with his family. Harry is part of that family now, whether his mum likes it or not.

As he walks home through the dark streets of London, he becomes more determined than ever to give Harry the most perfect Christmas ever. The day itself is most likely going to suck, and suck hard. His focus, then, has to be on Christmas Eve. That's when he'll give Harry his present.

Whatever the hell it is.

****

Now that he's got a goal, Eggsy does what he always does: he pursues it single-mindedly. He spends the entire next day, Wednesday, December 2nd, blowing off his research assignment in order to put together a plan for the most perfect Christmas Eve ever.

He starts where all days start: at the beginning. What he _should_ do is make Harry breakfast in bed, but cooking isn't his strong suit just yet, and there isn't enough time to get it right before Christmas. Not without Harry getting suspicious of why he's spending so much time in the kitchen.

So he goes one better. He makes reservations for brunch at the Savoy. It costs an arm and a leg –- and requires speaking discreetly to a concierge who owes Harry a favour -– but he gets it done. Just the thought of the look on Harry's face when they walk into that dining room full of snow-white linen and poinsettias all over the place is enough to make him smile.

Roxy walks in on him as he's sitting there, grinning like an idiot. One eyebrow nearly climbs into her hairline. "This is funny why?"

Eggsy frowns at her, then sees what she's looking at. He gapes at the image on his tablet, a nasty photo accompanying an article about chemical warfare in Afghanistan, words he never even pretended to read. He yelps. "No! That's not…I mean…" He swipes the offending picture off his screen. "I wasn't working on that."

"Obviously," Roxy says dryly.

Eggsy leans in. "Can you keep a secret?" he asks in a stage whisper.

"Can _you?_ " Roxy grins.

Ignoring this jab at his loose lips, Eggsy says, "I just got us reservations at the Savoy on Christmas Eve."

Roxy stares at him. "Oh my God," she finally says. "You've gone mental."

"What?" Eggsy cries. He's not sure if he should be offended by that remark or not. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Roxy says, "you're supposed to be working."

"Yeah, I know," Eggsy grins. "This is much better."

Roxy sighs and shakes her head. She tries – and fails spectacularly – not to smile. "I'll say this much," she says. "Harry is lucky to have you."

Eggsy preens. He can't help it. "Yeah," he says. "I know."

****

Continuing with his plan to set their entire schedule for Christmas Eve, Eggsy arranges for a private horse-drawn sleigh ride through St. James' Park after their brunch. The lady who takes his reservation doesn't seem bothered at all when he gives her the names of two blokes. She just asks for the correct spelling of their names and then asks him what package he wants. Eggsy, who read up on all the details on the company's website, has his answer all ready. "The Deluxe Holiday Package, please," he says in his best posh accent.

"Very good choice," the lady approves.

Eggsy hopes so. For an exorbitant amount of money, he and Harry will not only get a sleigh ride, they'll get all kinds of romantic extras. Fleecy blankets to snuggle under. A thermos of hot chocolate and a cute basket of candy canes. An assortment of holiday scarves and hats to choose from, if they so desire. Pictures taken and sold back to them for another sum of money that is just shy of extortion. Halfway through the ride, the sleigh stops at a pavilion where there will be a roaring fire they can warm up by, if it's really cold out, and toast some marshmallows. Champagne will be provided, along with a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. More pictures if they want. Then it's back under the blankets and into the sleigh for the ride home.

It's gonna be fucking fabulous.

He e-mails Roxy the link to the website and the package he just bought, along with the message: _They still have slots open, if you and Merlin are interested._

She writes back a few minutes later. _No thanks, he's allergic to strawberries._

Eggsy, who still doesn't even know Merlin's first name, blinks at the words for a moment, having just learned more in one sentence about the mysterious Merlin than he has in the nearly six months he's been a Kingsman. Roxy, he suddenly realises, lives in a completely different world from him. Hell, she's inhabiting a whole other _galaxy._

He considers replying to her e-mail and informing her that the sleigh ride company has other packages available, then shrugs.

Whatever. Their loss.

****

The rest of his plans fall neatly into place. Two tickets for a special holiday exhibit at London Tower, something to do with Christmas traditions throughout history. It's not at all something Eggsy is interested in, but it's right up Harry's alley. In fact, when the exhibit first opened, Harry had expressed an interest in attending, but one look at Eggsy's face had made him change his mind.

Thinking on it now, Eggsy feels kind of guilty about that. He and Harry don't exactly share many of the same interests, so it can be difficult to find something they both want to do on those rare days when they both have some down time. Harry has made an effort for him, going to see films or listening to music Eggsy has suggested. It's only fair that he return the favour.

The final touch for the perfect Christmas Eve is dinner. More reservations, this time at The Ledbury, which is frighteningly expensive but worth it all the same. He books the table late enough in the evening to allow for enough time to go back home after the thing at the Tower and get changed into something more appropriate for dinner.

And for the rest of the night? Well, Eggsy grins and figures they can wing it. They've never had any problems with creating scorching hot sex on their own.

And that's it, then. The best Christmas ever, all set and ready to go.

Now if only he could think of a gift for Harry, it would be completely perfect.

****

December slips quietly along, and Eggsy starts to feel a noose of panic tighten around his throat. He watches Harry carefully when adverts come on, looking for a spark of interest, some sign that Harry wants whatever item is being talked up. But he never sees anything to offer him any hope.

He tries out and rejects a hundred different ideas. A new jumper, cufflinks, tickets to a show, a book about butterflies, a bottle of expensive wine. A cool striped tie, a different scent of cologne, seeds for the back garden. A framed artwork to squeeze onto the walls already groaning with too much shit hanging on them. Membership to the British Museum. A romantic trip to Paris.

It's all either too impersonal, stuff Harry doesn't need, or too out of the question.

In short, it's absolutely fucking hopeless.

****

He wouldn't have thought anything else could be more important than his quest to find the right Christmas present for Harry, but in that he turns out to be wrong. On the morning of Saturday, December 12th, he looks at Harry from across the breakfast table and he says, "So are you gonna decorate in here?"

Harry blinks at him, fork poised in mid-air. "Decorate what?"

"The house," Eggsy says with a circular gesture meant to indicate the whole place.

"With what?" Harry asks, and oh my God, he can't possibly be this clueless. Can he?

"With Christmas decorations?" Eggsy says in the careful tones he might use to explain something to Daisy.

"Oh," Harry says. He shakes his head. "No."

Shocked, Eggsy just stares at him. "Nothing? Not even a single strand of tinsel?"

"Tinsel is cheap and disgusting and I will not have it in this house," Harry says immediately. He looks at Eggsy, and his expression softens. "Eggsy, I'm sorry. I'm rarely in the country during the holidays, and even when I am, I've always been away so much that it never really seemed to matter before."

"That," Eggsy says, "is the saddest fuckin' thing I ever heard." He pushes back his chair and stands up. He's not really done with his breakfast yet, but screw it. Some things are more important. "Okay, get up," he says. "We're going shopping."

More slowly, Harry sets his fork down. "I suppose you will want a tree," he says.

"You're damn right," Eggsy replies.

"And lights," Harry says.

"Now you're catching on," Eggsy grins.

"I draw the line at tinsel," Harry says.

"We can make strings of popcorn," Eggsy says.

"Absolutely not," Harry says, and Eggsy just laughs.

****

It's one of the best days ever. They buy the tree first, almost seven feet tall and smelling of heavenly pine. Harry arranges for it to be delivered later that afternoon, and Eggsy stands off to one side, hands thrust in his pockets, grinning from ear to ear.

They hit up Harrod's for the decorations, mostly because Eggsy wants to. After some good-natured bickering over the colour scheme, Eggsy starts handing boxes of spun-glass ornaments to Harry. Strands of lights, some for the tree, some to line the windows with. A huge gold star that lights up to go atop the tree. Two enormous stockings to hang up, big and red and puffy, just waiting to be filled with candy and Christmas crackers.

By the time they cart all that loot home, it's nearly 4:00 and pitch-black out. Eggsy orders takeaway while Harry starts unpacking. Somewhere in between setting the ornaments aside and pulling strands of lights out of the box, they end up on the floor, half-undressed and snogging each other for all they're worth.

So when the doorbell rings and JB starts barking, Harry swears vilely and hastily sits up. Eggsy follows suit, rubbing at his mouth, where he can still taste Harry. He watches with some bemusement as Harry tries to sweep his hair back into some kind of order, then tugs at his shirt.

It's the tree delivery people. They carry the enormous tree inside, grunting in annoyance as Eggsy hurries to shift furniture aside. He and Harry never even had a chance to discuss where to put the tree, but Harry seems content with his decision to put it in front of the living room window. It means shoving the couch back and severely shortening up the space in the room, but it'll be worth it when everything is said and done and they can sit together on the couch and look at the tree all lit up.

The delivery guy arrives just as the tree people leave, so there's dinner. They sit and eat and discuss the decorations, and Eggsy has to hide a smile behind his food, because only Harry Hart would approach putting up Christmas tree lights with all the seriousness of planning out a mission for Kingsman.

Then again, he thinks, remembering hours spent in the past trying to untangle a solid ball of wire and lights, maybe Harry's got the right of it.

It takes them the better part of the evening to get everything arranged the way they want it, but at last they're sitting comfortably on the couch, gazing at the tree. All lit up, the gold star twinkling away on top, it looks really good. There's lights around the windows, pine boughs on the mantel, and garland bedecking the cutouts in the wall between the kitchen and dining room.

It's all wonderfully Christmassy, and Eggsy is rightfully proud of how it turned out.

He turns toward Harry. "So," he says. "As I recall, we were interrupted this afternoon."

Harry glances at him, still holding his empty glass of whiskey. "So we were," he agrees.

"That was pretty rude," Eggsy says.

"Indeed it was," Harry says.

"Not very gentleman-like," Eggsy says.

"Not at all," Harry says.

"We should do somethin' about that," Eggsy says.

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asks.

"I dunno," Eggsy says. "Was thinkin' maybe something like this." And he leans in and kisses Harry.

They end up on the floor, rolling around and kissing as they undress each other, and somehow they wind up tangled in one of the strands of lights that they didn't use. Not that Eggsy's complaining.

Because that's when he discovers an unexpected beauty of Christmas lights. The colours reflect on their bare skin, painting him and Harry in shades of blue, green, red, and gold. "You have never been more beautiful," Harry says. He shifts his weight a little and leans over Eggsy, and Eggsy lies back obediently, giving himself up to Harry's kisses.

Down and down those kisses go, burning a line over his throat, his chest, his stomach. Eggsy reaches out blindly with one hand and twines his fingers in Harry's hair. And when Harry's mouth closes over his cock, so fucking hot, he arches his back and tips his head back, and finds himself staring at the Christmas tree, upside-down from his point of view. 

Lights flash in his eyes, but honestly he doesn't know if they're from the tree anymore or from what Harry is doing to him.

****

The weather turns bitterly cold. Some parts of the country get snow, but in London it's just a typical winter, grey and dark and cold. 

Wednesday, December 23rd dawns with frost lacing the windows and Eggsy still without a gift for Harry. By this point he's gone past despair, past panic and settled into the numb apathy of acceptance. He has nothing to give Harry. This is just how it's going to be. Tonight on his way home he'll just pop into Tesco and buy him a pack of chewing gum or something.

He heaves a silent sigh.

Well, maybe tomorrow itself can be his gift. Harry's not the type to get too hung up on material stuff. He might not even mind. He might be perfectly happy with the day Eggsy has planned for him.

But even if Harry is happy with it, Eggsy isn't. Even though he's run out of time, he still wants to find the perfect gift. It's become a matter of pride now. He needs to see Harry's face light up, and that smile that brings out his dimples. He doesn't really know why it's become such a big deal to him, but it is. It fucking well is.

It's cold as hell outside, but nicely warm in their bedroom. Eggsy lies on his left side and watches Harry sleep. The only light in the room comes from the glow of the alarm clock, but it's more than enough. He can see the thick curl drooping over Harry's forehead, obscuring the ugly scar left behind by Valentine's bullet. He can see Harry's hand just peeking out from under the covers, those talented, long fingers that drive him crazy every night, on him and in him until he's writhing and begging for it. Harry's breathing is slow and steady, although, Eggsy suddenly realises, it's maybe just a little _too_ steady.

He smiles ruefully. "How long you been awake?"

Harry's lips curve into a faint smile. "Long enough," he says, and opens his eyes.

Eggsy drinks in the sight of him. He'll never get tired of moments like this, when it's just the two of them together, when he doesn't have to worry about his mum and Daisy, or life as a Kingsman, or that dentist appointment he's got coming up. None of that stuff matters when Harry looks at him the way he is right now, with so much love and affection that he can still hardly believe any of this is real. Guys like him don't usually get the happy ending, after all.

He scoots over so he can give Harry a quick kiss with closed lips, trying not to get morning breath all over him. Harry's arm comes up and curves about his back, and Eggsy settles beside him with a murmur of contentment.

He's about to doze off again when the alarm goes off. He groans and buries his face in Harry's shoulder. "Nuuuh."

"Last day," Harry says with an encouraging pat on his shoulder. He's already wide awake, of course. He's not exactly a morning person, is Harry Hart, but the habits of a lifetime as a spy have trained him to come fully awake within moments. Not that this ever deters Eggsy from trying to keep him in bed, all warm and lazy and drowsy.

"Yeah," he mutters. Last day indeed. There's really no such thing as a day off when one is a Kingsman, but for a holiday like Christmas, HQ closes its doors as much as possible. Anyone who can leave, does. Those agents and staff who don't have families to join –- which is a depressingly high number of them -– are free to come to the shop on Savile Row, where there will be a ginormous turkey dinner and, if Eggsy understands correctly, something of a party.

Today, though, is business as usual. So he rolls out of bed and he starts the day, and he tries not to groan too loudly when he lets JB out and the cold air hits him in the face.

Back inside, he leans against the door and smiles. Even without the tree plugged in, the house looks wonderfully festive, all ready for Christmas. The smell of pine is wonderfully sweet, and he inhales deeply as he heads up the stairs so he can take his shower.

When he's all done and ready to start the day, he heads downstairs again. Harry is at the table and breakfast is waiting for him. It's the perfect opportunity, and Eggsy smiles as he slides into his chair. After weeks of planning and anticipation, the moment is finally here. It's time for the big reveal.

"So," he says, "let's talk Christmas." He's fairly thrumming with excitement. He can't fucking wait to see the look on Harry's face when he hears what Eggsy has planned for them.

"I thought we were all set on that," Harry replies as he butters his toast.

"We are," Eggsy says. He doesn't want to talk about Christmas Day and the most-likely-disastrous hours to be spent with his family. "I mean tomorrow. Christmas Eve."

Harry brightens. "Yes," he says. "That's a good idea."

"Yeah," Eggsy says. He sits back and he can't keep the excitement from his voice. "So this is what we got, okay?" he says. "We're gonna start with brunch at the Savoy. 10:00 a.m. sharp."

Harry's expression goes slack with surprise. "Oh," he says.

Thoroughly delighted with this reaction, Eggsy grins. "Yeah," he says. "Exactly. And that's just getting started." He runs through the rest of the plans for the day, watching as Harry gets progressively more and more shocked.

"Then I figure we can come back here and celebrate, just the two of us," he finishes. "If you know what I mean." He winks.

Harry stirs. "Yes," he says faintly. "I believe I do."

"So?" he asks. "What do you think?" He got a look at his bank balance the other day and nearly choked, but he can't really say he's too worried about it. Money isn't much of an obstacle for him anymore; Kingsman pays quite well, and he has very few living expenses, sharing this house and not owning a vehicle. Most of what he makes goes toward taking care of his mum and Daisy, actually, and he's never once regretted that.

So why can't he splurge every now and then? Harry is worth it, and besides, it's Christmas. Their first Christmas together. This will never happen again. Why shouldn't he try to make the absolute most of it?

"I think it sounds quite amazing," Harry says. He still looks a bit dazed, like he's just been kicked in the head. "In fact, I don't really know what to say. Eggsy, I…" He shakes his head.

A tiny bit abashed, Eggsy says, "It's our first Christmas, you know? I just wanted it to be special."

"As did I," Harry says.

The way he says it, slow and quiet, breaks through the elation Eggsy's been feeling for the past couple minutes. In dawning, horrified comprehension, he stares at Harry. "What? Shit, Harry, did you…? I mean, was you…?"

Absurdly, he feels like laughing. It's either that or vomit. He never once considered the notion that Harry might be making plans of his own for the holiday. The idea had simply never even occurred to him.

"Did I make plans for our first Christmas together?" Harry asks. "Yes, I did."

Eggsy groans loudly and drops his face into his hands. "Oh fuck. Oh _fuck._ "

He's a total fucking idiot. He never thought to ask, never thought he might not be the only one who wanted to make their first Christmas together into something truly special. And he should have known. Beneath the bespoke suits and the armor of good manners lies the beating heart of a romantic. _Of course_ Harry had made plans.

"Eggsy," Harry says his name, so gentle. "Look at me."

He lowers his hands and thinks dully that this is it. It's all over. He's fucked up so spectacularly that now he's got absolutely nothing at all to give Harry for Christmas, not even a special day out.

"I had thought," Harry says, "that we would spend the day together. Here. Just the two of us."

Eggsy stares at him. He can feel the old desperate craving for Harry's approval creeping over him, the way he felt back in the days of his training for Lancelot's position, when he would have done anything if it earned him another one of Harry's casual compliments –- _your weapons scores are excellent, by the way._

It's different now, though. He loves Harry more than he ever thought it was possible to love someone. He's known the grief of thinking Harry was dead, and the joy of discovering that he was still alive. He's spent weeks by Harry's side, watching him take his first steps again, reminding him to take his medication, listening to him shout when he gave in to violent outbursts of angry frustration during physical therapy. He's given everything of himself, body, mind, and soul, and never wished for anything except to stay here with this man he loves.

"I was going to make you breakfast in bed," Harry says. "I thought we could watch a film together, perhaps _My Fair Lady._ " He looks oddly hesitant, almost flustered, which is not at all something Eggsy is used to seeing from him. 

It just about kills him. All this time he's been so anxious to make their first Christmas together so perfect – and Harry was doing the exact same thing. And was Harry, by chance, pestering Merlin about it as much as Eggsy was bugging Roxy? Have Merlin and Roxy secretly been laughing at them this whole time?

Harry smiles a little, then says, "Then I imagined we could put dinner together, perhaps bake something for dessert, or some Christmas cookies that we could bring to Daisy the next day. We might go for a long walk and look at the city all lit up for the holiday. Then I thought we could come back here, and as you so succinctly put it, 'celebrate, just the two of us.' "

It sounds like a lovely Christmas. Quiet and romantic, and yes, absolutely perfect. Everything Eggsy wanted it to be.

"Harry," he says, and he feels about six inches tall. It's like time has rewound, like he's gone back to that terrible day he wishes he could erase from his mind, when he stood in the downstairs bathroom and accused Harry of the most horrible things, only to apologize for them all and have that apology thrown back in his face. "I'm so sorry."

"Why should you be?" Harry says. He doesn't look angry or anything. "You had the same idea as I did, with the same intentions. You merely went about it differently."

"But I should've asked," Eggsy says.

"Yes," Harry sighs. "As I should have." He smiles ruefully. "It would seem we've been working at cross-purposes."

"I'll call up and cancel it all," Eggsy vows. "Don't worry about any of it, I'll—"

"Nonsense," Harry says briskly. "You will do no such thing."

"But—" Eggsy starts.

"What makes you think my plans are in any way superior to your own?" Harry says. He gazes at Eggsy, that familiar, fond smile lighting his eyes. "You're much too quick to discredit yourself."

"Yeah, but—" Eggsy says.

Harry stands up. "We'll sort it out on the way to HQ," he says. "Come on, we're going to be late."

In Harry-speak, this means they're already late, so Eggsy doesn't argue.

What would be the point, anyway?

****

As promised, they do work it out. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, they will have breakfast at home, then go for the sleigh ride. From there they'll come back home and make cookies for Daisy and the family dinner on Christmas Day, then go back out and have dinner at The Ledbury. And then, Harry says with the faintest of smirks, they can do the one thing they both had on their agenda.

Eggsy can't help smiling at that, and it's okay then. He screwed up, but so did Harry. Lesson learned, and it's actually kind of funny when he thinks about it (although less funny when he thinks of his bank balance.)

Still, given that it could have been a total disaster, he supposes they came out of it pretty okay. He steps off the shuttle with a renewed sense of anticipation for the holiday. So it's not what he was originally planning. So what? This is going to be so much better, because they worked on it together, the way they should have done right from the start.

He gives Harry a quick kiss before they separate, Harry off to see the new Arthur, and Eggsy back to his research. Before going to the library, though, he makes a couple detours.

The first thing he does is find Merlin and give him the bottle of Scottish whiskey he bought last week. Merlin looks at the bottle, then gives one of his rare, wide smiles. "Thank you, Eggsy."

Twenty minutes and a flurry of texts later, he meets Roxy in the classroom where once upon a time he sat and took a few exams that made the ones he had in school look like connect-the-dots pages. He watches her open her present, and smiles to see the way her eyes light up; he doesn't like the TV show that is her favorite, but the DVD box set was on sale and he knows she loves it, so it seemed like the perfect gift.

She has a present for him, too, from both herself and Merlin. Eggsy opens it eagerly, and is not disappointed to see the set of throwing knives he's been wanting. He's only been dropping hints for the last few weeks, hoping one of them would pick up on it. "Yesss, Roxy! Thank you!"

"You better let me try those out, too," she says as she balls up the wrapping paper.

"Hell yeah," Eggsy says. He tests the weight of one, cocking his arm back like he's going to throw it at the wall.

"Eggsy," Roxy scolds, but she's smiling.

"Thanks, Rox," he says, and puts the knife back. He closes the lid on the box and sets it on the floor beside the desk where JB used to sit panting, waiting for him to finish his exam so they could go for a walk.

"So?" Roxy says. "Are you gonna tell me what you got for Harry?"

Just like that, his spirits plunge. Eggsy groans and wants to thump his head down on the wooden surface. "I wish I could," he sighs.

Roxy sits down at the desk in front of his. "Oh, Eggsy."

"I am so fucked," he moans. He tells her about this morning's screw-up, and the compromise he and Harry reached on their way to HQ. "I have to get the right present," he says. "Now more than ever, I _have_ to."

"Okay," Roxy says. For the first time since he knocked on her door on November the sodding 20th, she sounds like she's taking this seriously. "Okay, let's think this through logically."

Eggsy nods eagerly. Yes. Logic is good. Better yet, Roxy-logic. God knows his brain is too scrambled right now to think properly.

"How about a hat?" Roxy suggests.

"Harry doesn't wear hats," Eggsy says.

"Gloves."

"Already got some."

"A book."

"Next."

"A nice fountain pen."

That one has promise for about half a second. Then, "Nah, he's on that laptop more than I am. I don't think I've ever seen him really write anything."

Roxy keeps going, but nothing she suggests is good enough. At last Eggsy sighs and gives up, dropping his head down on the desk. "Face it, Rox. It's hopeless. I might as well just get him something from one of them tacky tourist shops."

"I suppose you could," Roxy says thoughtfully. "Harry seems like he might actually enjoy that kind of thing."

Eggsy lifts his head and stares at her, trying to figure out if she's taking the piss or not. Before he can come to an answer, though, she says, "Eggsy, whatever you get, I'm sure Harry will love it. All that matters is that it comes from you." She stands up. "Now I've really got to go. I was supposed to meet Tristan at the shooting range twenty minutes ago."

He watches her go, her final words to him echoing in his brain. It's the exact same thing she said to him when he first went to her back in November.

He gazes out at the empty classroom. He remembers sitting here, JB at his feet, the only sound the scratching of pen on paper. He remembers feeling quiet elation at realizing he knew all the answers. He remembers Merlin taking him aside one morning after a lesson in this very room and telling him that Harry had woken from his coma and wanted to see him.

And he remembers the thrill that shot through him to hear those words, to know that not only was Harry awake and doing okay, but that Harry actually wanted to see him, that Harry hadn't forgotten about him now that he was just another Kingsman recruit.

He remembers thinking he would do anything to keep it that way, anything to give Harry a reason to remember him.

And just like that, he knows.

He knows the perfect present for Harry.

****

The streets are crowded with last-minute shoppers, all of them looking as frazzled as he feels. The shop Eggsy selects, though, is blissfully peaceful, with only one other lady gazing down at the items on view in the glass display cases.

He wanders around, hands clasped behind his back, looking at all the merchandise, until at last he spots it. He knows it's the one he wants, because as soon as he sets eyes on it, his heart starts to pound.

"Can I help you find anything, sir?" asks a clerk. The man is wearing a suit nearly the equal of Eggsy's, although without the bulletproof protection, of course.

Being called "sir" is still something of a novelty for Eggsy. Between that and his excitement over _finally_ finding the perfect gift, he very nearly forgets to put on his posh accent. "Yes, I was wondering if you could show me that one, in the middle there."

"An excellent choice," says the clerk. He unlocks the glass display case and brings out the particular item Eggsy has his eye on. "It dates back to 1882, and as you can see, it is in _very_ good condition."

Eggsy nods. Yeah, he can see that much. He also knows that he's going to buy it, regardless of what the clerk says.

"I don't suppose there's enough time to have it engraved, is there?" he asks.

"If you mean this afternoon, no, I'm afraid not, sir," says the clerk. "But if you come back after Christmas, we would be more than happy to do it for you then."

That will work. Eggsy nods. "Okay," he says. "I'll take it."

The clerk beams. "Very good, sir." He looks up. "Would you like it gift-wrapped?"

****

He makes it back to HQ without anyone even knowing he was gone. When he shows the gift to Roxy, her jaw drops. "It's perfect!"

"Yeah," he replies, all casual, like his heart isn't still going a mile a minute with triumph. "I just need your help for this last bit." 

She looks at him, puzzled, but when he explains what he wants her to do, her eyes practically fill with tears. "Oh, Eggsy. He's going to love it."

"I hope so," Eggsy says. "I really do."

****

The next morning dawns cold and gray. As usual Harry is up first, a soft good-morning kiss for Eggsy before he rolls out of bed. Curled up with his eyes still closed, Eggsy hears the bathroom door close and then the faintest hint of light filters into the bedroom.

He drifts for a little bit, strongly considering going back to sleep. Right around the time he hears the shower start, though, he remembers what day this is.

It's Christmas Eve.

Instantly he's wide awake, swamped with conflicting emotions. There's guilt for ruining Harry's plans. Excitement for the things they actually do have planned. And more than a little of his usual morning stiffy. Hearing the water running, imagining Harry in the shower, doesn't help matters.

And then he thinks, what the hell. Why not? It's Christmas, after all.

He climbs out of bed and quickly strips down. It's cold as hell outside, and although the heat is on, the bedroom is still pretty chilly. Goosebumps break out on his bare skin as he hurries into the bathroom, making sure to close the door loudly behind him to announce his arrival.

"Eggsy?" Behind the dark brown shower curtain, Harry sounds a bit puzzled. They don't usually interrupt each other's morning routine; most days Eggsy sneaks in a little bit more sleep while Harry gets ready. And even if he doesn't, there are two bathrooms in the house, after all.

"Yeah," he says. He draws back the shower curtain and steps into the tub.

It's wonderfully warm in here, but that's not the only reason Eggsy suddenly feels hot all over. Harry stands there beneath the hot water, a soapy sponge in one hand. With his skin flushed from the heat and his hair hanging in wet curls, he looks utterly debauched already, and Eggsy's cock hardens further at the sight.

Eggsy clears his throat. "Thought you could use some company."

It's been a while since they've done this, but Harry never hesitates. He smiles as he steps aside, granting Eggsy access to the hot water streaming down from the showerhead. "After you."

There's not much room in the tub; as they sidestep each other, his front brushes against Harry. His cock leaps at the contact, and he gasps. He's almost moved past when Harry's hand lashes out and seizes the back of his neck. Before he can do more than yelp in surprise, he's being pulled in for a long, filthy kiss.

Utterly shameless, he groans into Harry's mouth and melts against him. Or he tries to. Just as he gives himself over completely to that kiss, Harry lifts his head and stares down at him. "Did you really think you could just come in here and interrupt my shower and not suffer the consequences?"

Little sparks of heat collect in Eggsy's stomach at the silken growl in Harry's voice. "Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?" he challenges.

"Let me show you," Harry says.

Eggsy steels himself, but he's not ready, not by far. Harry's hands grip his shoulders and shove him backward, pinning him against the tile wall. Hot water pours over the right side of his body, while his other half feels almost cold and bereft. But it's not that which makes him quiver with delight – it's the look in Harry's eyes.

The kiss this time is a punishment, Harry's lips hard enough to bruise, mouth demanding everything from him. Harry kicks his legs apart, then one firm thigh is between his, pressing upward and drawing a sharp hiss from him.

He whines into Harry's mouth and ruts helplessly against Harry's leg, needing the friction, the burn on his cock. He clutches at Harry with both hands, wishing he knew how to eliminate the air between them so that nothing at all separated them.

The burning kiss relents, and then Harry drags his lips over Eggsy's skin, scattering open-mouthed kisses all across his face. "Eggsy," he sighs. "Oh my dear. I love you." He's touching Eggsy everywhere, cupping his arse, fingers stroking lightly down his back and over his sides. And still his thigh pushes up into Eggsy's cock, rubbing just a little, just enough to drive Eggsy crazy.

Two can play at that game, though. He turns his head, trying to capture Harry's mouth in a kiss, and misses completely. Laughing a little, so turned on his cock aches, he glides one hand down Harry's back, following the curve of his spine and on down, ghosting his fingers in the cleft of Harry's arse.

Beautifully responsive, Harry gasps and rocks up against him.

"You like that," Eggsy murmurs, "yeah?"

"You know I do," Harry says, and kisses him. "And do you know what else I like?" He wraps one hand about Eggsy's cock. "This."

Eggsy's hips stutter forward all on their own. "Fuck," he sighs. "Yes."

Harry strokes him, fingers curling to lightly press along the sensitive underside of his dick. Eggsy groans, mouth open, and Harry kisses him again, wet and sloppy.

Still stroking him, Harry's other hand captures his wrist and guides it downward. Yeah, Eggsy thinks, and then they're both holding on, Harry's hand over his as they bring each other off, shuddering together beneath clouds of steam in the shower.

As he comes, Eggsy thinks deliriously that this is the perfect start to a perfect day.

****

Because the plans for the day have changed and there's no need to dress up until dinner, Eggsy doesn't bother with a suit right away. He gets dressed in a pair of comfortable black jeans and one of his nicer T-shirts under a dark gray pullover. Even though there are no ties or suits today, he and Harry still move about the bedroom with the same economy of routine they practice in the morning when they're getting ready to go save the world.

He loves that.

They head downstairs together. Eggsy lets JB out and stands on the stoop, arms wrapped about his ribcage, shivering with the cold. The sleigh ride is going to be not so much fun, he thinks, then shrugs. So what if it's cold? It's Christmas Eve. How often is he going to be able to say he got to go on a fucking sleigh ride in St. James' Park?

JB trots inside and Eggsy follows gratefully. He heads for the kitchen, where Harry is just putting an apron on over his clothes. He's wearing black trousers, a white dress shirt and a simple black V-neck jumper. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and Eggsy wants to lick the hollow of his throat.

"Want me to help?" he asks.

"No," Harry says. "This was something I wanted to do for you."

"Yeah, but I'm up now," Eggsy says. "Might as well pitch in." He grins.

Harry looks at him sternly. "No, Eggsy."

He could protest, but he feels a return of that guilt, knowing that he ruined Harry's holiday plans. "Yeah, all right," he says, conceding the argument even before it begins. "But don't expect me to sit up in bed waiting for you."

At this, Harry smiles. "I wouldn't expect that of you." He pauses delicately. "Now."

There's no mistaking his meaning, and Eggsy grins again. "Maybe later, yeah?"

"Maybe," Harry says mildly, but the look he gives Eggsy is full of promise. It's enough to give Eggsy's cock naughty thoughts, and he has to shift his weight a little to hide the evidence.

He watches Harry pull stuff out of the fridge, then slowly turns around and walks out. He's hungry, but he knows the food will be worth the wait. Eggsy is no slouch in the kitchen, having done the lion's share of the cooking at his old house, but Harry is amazing at turning even the most ordinary of ingredients into something remarkable.

He wanders upstairs and opens the closet, then pulls out the box he hid in there yesterday evening. The box is wrapped prettily in silver paper and tied with a white-and-silver ribbon. He's already decided he'll give it to Harry after breakfast but before they leave the house. It will be perfect timing, and with luck he'll get to see Harry enjoy it all day long.

Of course, his track record when it comes to Christmas isn't exactly the best. Still, he's hopeful.

****

Breakfast is incredible, just as he knew it would be. Wonderfully light, lemony pancakes with powdered sugar, made just the way he likes. Toast and jam, eggs and sausage, and freshly squeezed orange juice to go with his coffee. He rolls his eyes back in his head and groans. "Christ, Harry, I'm never gonna eat the rest of the day."

"I expect you'll change your mind around dinnertime," Harry says. He seems pleased that Eggsy enjoyed the meal so much.

"Yeah, probably," Eggsy admits. He'll pay for this later, of course, eating so much today and tomorrow. But a few extra hours in the gym are a small price to pay, and of course he's already planning to burn a hell of a lot of calories tonight in bed.

"So," he says, trying to sound super-casual, "I got somethin' for you."

"And I have something for you," Harry says, his lips curving in a small smile.

"I'll be right back," Eggsy says, and pops up out of his chair. He hurries upstairs and gets the silver-wrapped box, then returns downstairs.

Halfway there, he stops dead. Harry isn't in the dining room anymore, but in the living room. Standing in front of the Christmas tree, which is now plugged in. In his arms he's holding something very large and very black.

More slowly now, he goes down the last few steps. "What's that, then?"

"Happy Christmas, Eggsy," Harry says.

Eggsy walks up to him and sets the box in his hand down on the coffee table. He takes the greatcoat with something like reverence. He knows full well how much something like this costs. The wool is thick and warm, and the collar is made of incredibly soft fur. The lapels are very much like one of his suits, and the buttons are made of horn.

"I thought you could wear it today," Harry says, and he sounds almost shy, like he's maybe half-expecting Eggsy to pronounce his gift is stupid. "It's awfully cold out."

Eggsy nods, not trusting himself to speak out loud.

"Do you want to try it on?" Harry asks.

He nods again, and this time manages to find his voice. "Yeah." He unfolds the coat and slips his arms into the sleeves. The lining is so soft his hand whispers along it smoothly before emerging from the cuff. The collar nestles against the back of his neck, promising to keep him warm even from the wintry wind. The hem reaches almost to his knees, providing some protection for his legs against the chill.

It fits beautifully.

"Check the pockets," Harry suggests.

Inside the pockets is a pair of black gloves, soft leather and cashmere. They slide on his hands like they were made specifically for him. He flexes his fingers, watching the leather bend and crease.

"You can still use your tablet while wearing them," Harry says. "There are micro-conductors in the fingertips." He smiles a little. "No more cold hands."

Overwhelmed, Eggsy looks up at him. "God, Harry. Thank you."

Harry smiles, looking pleased all over again. "You're very welcome."

For a moment Eggsy just stands there, still marveling over the riches he's just been given. Then he catches sight of the box on the coffee table, and he gives himself a shake. "Shit," he breathes. "I almost forgot." He pulls the gloves off and reaches for the box.

"Here," he says, and holds it out. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry unwraps the Christmas present with the same precision he applies to everything he does. He sets the ribbon and the silver paper aside, then opens the box. When he sees what's inside, his breath catches. "Oh, Eggsy."

This is it, then. For over a month he's been desperate for this moment, to get it just right, to see the light he's seeing right now in Harry's eyes.

And it's finally here.

With careful reverence, Harry takes the pocket watch out of the box. He handles it gently, cupping it in his palm. Like Harry himself, the watch is beautiful to look at, elegant simplicity on the outside hiding the complexity beneath. The hunter-case is gold, as are the gears that make up the inner workings. The case itself is plain, but Eggsy intends to have it engraved just as soon as he can, with the words _Yours always._

On the inside of the hunter-case, opposite the watch face, Eggsy has placed a picture of himself. Roxy took a bunch of pictures for him yesterday, and together they had decided on which one to use. In it he's smiling a little, not too big and cheesy, but with a look on his face that Roxy described as "soft." He hadn't the nerve to tell her that when she took that particular picture, he had been thinking about Harry.

"Do you like it?" he asks, rather anxiously. There's a gold chain too, in a black velvet drawstring bag, but Harry hasn't seen it yet; he still has eyes only for the watch itself.

"I do," Harry says quietly. "Very much." His thumb brushes over the photo, then he looks up at Eggsy, his eyes dark with emotion.

His heart beating fast, Eggsy says, "I thought you could wear _that_ today."

"And I will," Harry says. "With pride." He smiles brightly enough to show his dimples, then glances down at the box and sees the bag. "And this is the chain, I take it?"

"Yeah," Eggsy says. "Don't suppose it'll go with your outfit now, but…"

"At dinner," Harry says firmly. He gently closes the watch and lays it back inside the box. "Thank you, Eggsy. It's beautiful."

"No more'n what you deserve," Eggsy says, and oh God if he keeps this up he's going to get all choked up. The thought horrifies him, but there's nothing he can do as Harry walks toward him. Not that he would want anything else but this, as Harry embraces him, coat and all.

"I love you," Harry says. "Happy Christmas."

"God," Eggsy says, and his arms ache because he's holding Harry so tight. "I love you so much, don't you know?"

Already it's the best Christmas he's ever had, and the day is just beginning.

****

The sleigh ride is both better and worse than Eggsy thought it would be. It's really cold out, but his new greatcoat is wonderfully warm, and there are plenty of blankets to cover them. He dons a Santa hat, but pushes it back on his head in a way he hopes looks cool. It does fuck-all for keeping his head warm, but it makes Harry smile fondly every time he sees it, and that's what matters.

The hot chocolate is blissfully warm, the sleigh bells ring out in the cold, and being snuggled up with Harry in public is a rare treat. The knowledge that the smell of horse is sinking into their clothes, however, is not so much fun. That's one thing he didn't take into account when he made these plans.

The sleigh stops at the pavilion and they get out. There's a roaring fire going and some braziers putting out heat, so it's not too bad beneath the shelter. Eggsy raises his glass of champagne in a toast, and Harry does the same.

"Our first Christmas," Eggsy says, and he grins like the complete and utter sap he is when it comes to Harry Hart.

"Our first Christmas," Harry replies, his eyes alight. Their glasses clink gently together, then they drink.

On the way back they burrow once again beneath the blankets. Eggsy lets the motion of the sleigh lull him into closing his eyes. Harry's got one arm wrapped around him, and in spite of the cold air on his face he feels delightfully warm.

"This was a good idea, yeah?" he says.

"A very good idea," Harry replies.

****

At home once again, they move into the kitchen. It turns out Harry bought all the necessary ingredients for an afternoon of baking and quietly stashed everything away ahead of time so Eggsy wouldn't find out and guess his plan. Faced with this evidence of just how sneaky Harry can be, Eggsy shakes his head with wonderment. "Maybe we should start making our Easter plans now."

"How about we get through Christmas first," Harry says as he ties on his apron.

This reminder about tomorrow puts a bit of a damper on Eggsy's enthusiasm. He's not really looking forward to spending a day surrounded by his mum's disapproval of Harry. Then there's the unknown factor of his Aunt Lisa's presence; she could either make things better or a lot worse.

He'll just have to focus on Daisy, and give her the best Christmas of her short life. For the first time ever he's got enough money to spoil his baby sister rotten, and he's taken full advantage of that fact. There are tons of presents for her in the guest room, neatly wrapped and with her name on the gift tags. He can't wait to see the look on her face when she opens them all.

Besides, it's only one day. He can get through it. And when it's all over, he gets to come back here with Harry, and then they can do whatever they want.

He sets down the mixing bowls and says, " 'course, we got New Year's comin' up, too."

"Indeed we do," Harry says, "and I fully expect to receive my kiss at midnight."

Grinning from ear to ear, Eggsy says, "You can have a whole lot more than just a kiss."

"I shall hold you to that," Harry says, and he smiles.

****

When all the Christmas cookies are baked and frosted and packed away in holiday tins, they get ready for dinner. Eggsy wouldn't mind joining Harry in the shower again, but certain practical realities intrude on his pleasant imaginings. If he and Harry have another go now, that pretty much means there won't be any after-dinner celebratory activities -– and that's not something he's willing to give up.

So he keeps his hands to himself, even when he's in the shower washing away the smell of horse. He steps out into the bedroom and gets dressed in the suit he picked out weeks ago for this occasion, wanting to look his very best for this dinner. He's never been to The Ledbury before, but he knows it's terrifyingly posh.

The tuxedo itself is navy blue, but the lapels are black, adding a smart touch to a classic look. He knots a black bow tie at his throat and combs his hair in the side part he only wears when he's got to dress the part of a gentleman spy. A splash of cologne and a final check of his shoes, and he's good to go.

Harry waits for him downstairs, immaculately groomed as always. His tux is timeless black, and his jacket is unbuttoned, revealing the gold chain of the pocket watch he received this morning. Eggsy smiles to see it, and walks toward him. "Looking good," he says.

"So are you," Harry says, his gaze roving appreciatively up and down Eggsy's body.

Eggsy stops in front of him and smooths his fingers over the lapels of Harry's jacket. He touches one of the black horn buttons on Harry's crisp white shirt, then traces the line of the watch chain. 

Stupidly, he feels a lump rise in his throat. He has no idea why. All he knows is that he's never loved anyone like he loves this man standing in front of him -– and he's never felt so happy in all his life.

He breathes in deep, getting himself back under control again. He looks up at Harry and says, "I am so gone for you, Harry Hart. There ain't no hope for me."

"Oh, I rather doubt that," Harry says, but the light in his eyes gives away how happy he is, too. He leans in just as Eggsy reaches for him and they kiss, slow and sweet, and Eggsy's almost ready to say forget about dinner, they should just stay in and take off all the fancy clothes they spent half an hour putting on.

It's not meant to be, though. Harry breaks off the kiss and steps back, and with a faint smile he buttons up his jacket, hiding the watch chain from view. Eggsy knows it's there, though, and the thought makes him smile.

"The cab should be here any moment now," Harry says. "I already took JB out. Are you ready?"

Eggsy picks up his new greatcoat from where it hangs on the coat rack in the hall. "Let's go."

****

Dinner is well worth the price he's paying. The restaurant is elegantly decorated for the holiday, and the food is amazing. Eggsy tries not to eat too much, but it's difficult to do when he's being served four courses, each one better than the one that came before it.

He sips at his wine and tries not to smirk into his glass. There's a lot of pretty people here tonight, but he and Harry are attracting more than their fair share of looks from curious strangers. Some of those looks are more wary and unfriendly, those particular diners having figured out that they are not father and son, and not liking what they see, but Eggsy doesn't give a shit. He's proud to be seen at a place like this with someone like Harry. He's spent all his life not caring what other people say about him. He's certainly not about to start now.

After the food is done and the bill is settled, they just sit for a while, finishing the last of the wine. Eggsy feels sated, but alert and awake. He knows what they're doing, why they're deliberately postponing the trip home and the last of the day's activities, and he approves. He loves this, sitting here watching Harry lift the wineglass to his mouth, the crisp white cuff falling back to reveal his slender wrist. He loves the little glances Harry keeps stealing at him, knowing that he looks good, that Harry wants him as much as he wants Harry.

At last they look at each other and it's like most everything they do – even without speaking, they just know that it's time to act. They rise from the table and head for the door. Eggsy feels pleasantly tipsy, and he's already half-hard in his trousers, ready for the night to begin.

They walk outside, and it's even colder than it was earlier today. Grateful for his wonderful new coat, Eggsy shivers a little. He thrusts his hands deep in his pockets and leans against Harry's shoulder as they wait for their cab to arrive. On any other night, they could have walked home, but tonight the cold makes the thought of a long walk very unappealing.

And given the way Harry keeps looking at him, Eggsy is pretty sure that timing is a factor, too. Neither of them wants to drag things out anymore.

It's time to go home and finish the day.

The trip back to their house isn't long, but it still seems to take an eternity. While Harry pays the driver, Eggsy unlocks the door and stands aside so JB can trot out and do his business. The pug doesn't like the cold anymore than they do, and he's already hurrying back inside by the time Harry pockets his wallet and the cab driver heads off.

Right there on the porch, the door standing wide open, Harry kisses him. "I've been wanting to do that since our waiter brought out the starters," he says.

Eggsy grins at the thought of scandalizing all those posh people with their silver spoons and says, "Shoulda done it, then."

"Perhaps next time I will," Harry says.

The only light inside the house is the colored bulbs of the Christmas tree lights. Eggsy backs toward the stairs, leading Harry with him as they kiss again. He can taste the vanilla ice cream they had at dessert. In spite of the chill in the air, Harry's lips are very warm. Eggsy opens his mouth for that kiss, slow and deep, and feels the last of the winter cold leave him. 

Harry's hands slide up his back and shoulders, holding him close. Eggsy sways forward, all too aware then of how many layers of clothing they're wearing. Too many, damn it, and it's time to get rid of them.

He has to break the kiss in order to shrug out of his new coat. He tosses it over the bannister, bracing himself for the scolding sure to come – less than a day and already treating it like this, Eggsy, really? But instead of saying anything, Harry just reaches for him again.

In the darkness, Eggsy doesn't see it coming, though. So when Harry's hand brushes his waist, he jumps in surprise. For a single moment his entire body tenses up, ready for combat, before rational thought overcomes the reflexive fight-or-flight response.

"All right?" Harry murmurs. He's drawn away again, giving Eggsy his space.

"Yeah," Eggsy says. It's fine, the momentary fright is long gone, and he's back to just wanting to shag Harry's brains out.

But there's something to be said for being in the dark, he thinks. Something about knowing that Harry intends to touch him, but not being able to see where. It adds a certain level of tension that he likes.

All of which makes him think of something he's always wanted to try. He's never had a partner he felt comfortable enough with to suggest it, but he trusts Harry without hesitation.

And as they make their way upstairs, kissing and undoing buttons, Eggsy makes up his mind.

They're still in the upstairs hall when he takes hold of Harry's bow tie. "I got this, yeah?" he says with a smirk. He deftly undoes the knot, then whisks it off Harry's neck. He holds it up, all expensive black silk, and yeah, it will work nicely.

"Always wanted to try this," he says, and wraps the tie about his eyes.

Harry makes a noise, half whimper and half groan. The sound of it goes right to Eggsy's cock, and he says, "Guess you did, too?"

"Oh my dear, if you knew how beautiful you look like this." Harry's voice is hushed and a little bit hoarse.

Eggsy grins widely. "Yeah? You like?"

"Very much," Harry says.

"Show me how much you like it," Eggsy says, and then can't help laughing a little at his use of a visual command.

Harry doesn't notice. Or rather, he surely does, but he refrains from saying anything about it. He just eases his arm around Eggsy's shoulders and guides him down the hall and into the bedroom.

Everything is different without the use of his eyes. He's very aware of the heat of Harry's body beside his, the open space of the room, and a vaguely sensed mass that is the bed just in front of him. Even though he's still fully dressed, his skin seems super sensitive, so he can feel the whisper of silk and linen across his body.

"Let me," Harry says and proceeds to undress him.

It's a slow process, a gradual revealing of his body as his clothes are removed one by one. The air feels cool on his bare chest, but when Harry closes his lips over one of his nipples and suckles, suddenly Eggsy feels almost too warm. Prickles of heat break out all over his skin, and he catches his breath, biting at his lower lip. He sinks one hand into Harry's hair, holding his head there. "Christ, Harry."

Harry makes a low humming noise that Eggsy feels in his skin more than he hears. His hips sway forward, his cock painfully hard in his trousers as Harry licks his nipple, slowly dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud until Eggsy is practically writhing. "God," he pants. "Fuck. Oh fuck."

At last Harry relents and stands up again. "Shoes off," he says quietly and before Eggsy can fully process this, he hears the whisper of clothing as Harry kneels down, and deft fingers are undoing his shoelaces.

He squirms a little, suddenly embarrassed. "You don't have to..." He can't finish.

"I want to," Harry says calmly.

There's nothing Eggsy can say to that, so he stands still, merely shifting his weight as needed as Harry removes his shoes and socks. It's a strange feeling, knowing that Harry is kneeling at his feet but being unable to see it. He likes it, likes the image he gets in his head, a picture of such power that it makes his cock ache.

Harry stands up again and kisses Eggsy. His hands roam over Eggsy's shoulders and back, then slide around his waist and undo his belt buckle.

"Yes," Eggsy says. "Yes."

"Impatient," Harry says, and Eggsy can hear the smile in his voice.

Despite the reproof, Harry does not keep him waiting. Within moments Eggsy's trousers are open and his boxers pushed down. His cock bobs free, wet warmth along the tip.

"Step out," Harry says and Eggsy does, and that's the last of his clothes.

"Oh, my dear heart," Harry breathes. Fabric rustles again and before he can react, his cock is in Harry's mouth.

The sound Eggsy makes isn't even something he can describe; it's wrenched from the back of his throat, composed of pure lust and need. It's all he can do to stand still.

God, Harry's _mouth._ Eggsy's toes curl under as Harry swallows him in. Sparks of light burst behind the black tie over his eyes. He sways and reaches for Harry's shoulders to steady himself, knows a moment of utter disorientation when he realizes that Harry is still fully dressed, and then he forgets everything but the way Harry's tongue is curling about his cock.

They've been together so long that Harry knows everything he loves, all those little tricks that make him writhe shamelessly. His hands bear down on Harry's shoulders hard enough to bruise as Harry tongues at his slit and then takes him deep in his throat. Both Harry's hands are on his arse, one long finger circling his hole, teasing him mercilessly.

He can't stay quiet, can't help the little pumping motion of his hips. He's been wanting this since before dinner; hell, all day long, if he's honest with himself. And if Harry keeps this up much longer, it's all going to be over with far too soon.

"Stop," he pants. "I need, I'm gonna…"

Harry pulls away with an obscene wet noise. "Yes?"

"I need you," Eggsy says. " _Now._ "

"Yes," Harry says again as he stands up, and even without the use of his eyes, it's obvious to Eggsy how much he wants it, too.

Slowly he retreats until the backs of his legs make contact with the bed, and then he just kind of lets himself topple over. As he hears the sounds of Harry quickly shedding his clothes, he scoots up the bed until he can rest his head on the pillow. He poses deliberately, one leg crooked at the knee, his cock hard against his belly. "Ready whenever you are," he invites, throwing the words out into the darkness surrounding him. He likes that, not knowing where Harry is right now, or what's coming next.

"I ought to leave you lying there like that," Harry growls, and Eggsy turns his head, finding him by sound alone. He grins, knowing an empty threat when he hears one.

"Spread your legs for me," Harry says, and the command is hypnotic; Eggsy couldn't disobey even if he wanted to.

He shivers a little as he hears the sound of the lid being unscrewed from the little jar Harry keeps in his nightstand. It's the darkness over his eyes, and the aching need thrumming through him, the pleasurable delight of anticipation. The bed dips as Harry lies down between his legs, and Eggsy simply can't help the little noise he makes then.

"You look so good like this," Harry says. He trails his fingers lightly along the sensitive skin of Eggsy's inner thigh, and Eggsy cants his hips upward, needing to be touched. "So wanton." He cups Eggsy's sac, then strokes his fingertips down his perineum, toward his hole. "So delightful."

Every word goes straight to Eggsy's cock, moisture leaking onto his stomach. "God, Harry," he moans. "The way you talk."

Harry's touch withdraws for a moment, then returns, this time with the slightly cool sensation of lube. He circles Eggsy's hole again, then pushes one finger in all the way.

Eggsy all but leaps off the bed. "Fuck!"

"That was the idea," Harry says in amusement. He slides his finger in and out, gently fucking Eggsy with it, but never hitting that place deep inside where he yearns to be touched.

He's going to lose his mind at this rate, Eggsy thinks. "Come on," he whines. "Come on."

Harry's got two fingers and more lube in him now, but he scarcely feels the burn of being stretched. He's going crazy from the kisses Harry is littering all over his thighs, and the heat of Harry's breath on his skin. His hips buck helplessly upward, and Harry soothes him. "You're so beautiful right now, so undone. If only you could see what I see."

Eggsy whimpers, ready to start begging. Harry's fingers twist and crook inside him, and he shouts aloud, his back arching with the flood of sensation ripping through him. "So beautiful," Harry says, and licks at his balls, and Eggsy throws his head back and keens through clenched jaws.

He can't take anymore, he really can't. "Harry," he gasps. "Fuck, I need… Harry, God…"

"Yes," Harry says, and there's an edge of strain to his voice that hasn't been there until just now. Like even his iron self-control is rapidly fraying.

He should turn over to make it easier, but he's afraid to move, afraid that the friction of the sheets against his cock will finish him, and that's not how he wants this to end. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold on, but he's going to do his damnedest.

Harry's hands leave him, and for a moment he feels cold and bereft. Then he hears the sound of Harry slicking the lube over his cock, and his whole body twitches with anticipation. "Yes," he says. "Yes, come on, Harry, come on." He spreads his legs wide, bringing his knees toward his chest, grabbing handfuls of the sheet to stop himself from taking hold of his aching cock.

Harry's weight settles between his legs, and then he's pushing in, almost too slowly for how badly Eggsy wants it. The blissful sensation of being stretched, of being _filled_ , makes him whimper again, and he clenches down on Harry's cock, already needing more.

It seems to take forever for Harry to sink all the way in, to groan breathlessly and ask, "All right?"

"Yeah," Eggsy says immediately. "Fuck yeah, just…"

He clutches at Harry's shoulders as Harry starts to move. There is nothing gentle about things now, there's a fevered urgency to Harry's thrusts and his breathing is ragged. It gives Eggsy a thrill to know that he's been able to do this almost by doing nothing at all, simply by letting Harry touch him all over.

"Eggsy," Harry pants, "Eggsy, I want… I want to see your face when you come." And though he's almost shaking with need by this point, he manages to stop his thrusts anyway.

Unable to believe it, Eggsy utters a thin keening sound. "God, don't stop, don't…" He hooks one foot around Harry's back, trying to _make_ him move again, even as he reaches up to sweep the tie off his eyes.

It's dark in here is his first thought; only the light from the hall spills into the bedroom. After being blinded for so long, though, it's more than enough light. He sees Harry above him, hair hanging in thick locks over his forehead, skin flushed and sweaty. He sees the look in Harry's eyes, and knows it for the same way he looks at Harry.

"Happy now?" he asks.

"Yes," Harry says. "Fuck yes." And he finally starts moving again.

Every thrust hits that place deep inside, sending sparks throughout him, and it's too much, Eggsy knows he isn't going to make it. He's got both legs wrapped around Harry now, his head thrown back against the pillow, his whole body moving with every thrust. Harry captures his mouth in a sloppy kiss, tongue in his mouth and along his lips.

And that's it. He's gone, coming so hard that the world whites out all around him. It's like falling apart, except he knows that won't ever happen, because Harry will hold him together.

He returns to himself and opens his eyes. Above him, Harry stares down into his eyes, his gaze fixed and intense. He's still moving against Eggsy, seeking release, although from the erratic pace of his thrusts, he's close now. And though Eggsy feels overly sensitive now and his legs are starting to ache, he tightens his grip on Harry and clenches down on his cock, adding to the friction.

"Come for me," he whispers. He reaches up and cups the back of Harry's neck and pulls him down for another kiss. "Come for me, Harry."

And Harry does, spilling himself deep within Eggsy's body and shuddering against him. Eggsy holds him close and thinks that no matter what the future brings for them, he will never forget this day, never forget this moment.

****

He wakes to soft kisses and Harry's voice low in his ear. "Eggsy. Wake up."

It feels like he's only been asleep for an hour. Groaning, he squints one eye open and sees on the clock that it's just after midnight.

Harry smiles at him. "Happy Christmas, Eggsy."

Fully awake now, Eggsy rolls onto his side and stares at him. "Did you really just wake me up so you could wish me a Happy Christmas?"

He can't believe it. He's managed to fall in love with the one person in the entire world who's more of a romantic about Christmas than he is.

"It seemed appropriate," Harry says.

Eggsy laughs and kisses him. "You're such a softie," he teases. "Tell me something. How long did it take you to get my gift and plan this day?"

"Weeks," Harry admits. "I wanted very much to get it just right."

This confession touches him like nothing else could. It amazes him to think of Harry, normally so calm, cool, and collected, fretting anxiously over what to get him for Christmas.

And it makes him realize all over again how incredibly lucky he is to have Harry and this life they've made with each other. He wouldn't trade any of it, not even the bad days, for anything else.

Why would he, when everything he's ever wanted is right here?

Eggsy looks over at Harry and he smiles. "You did get it right," he says. "You really did."


End file.
